Living the Musketeer Life
by The Forgotten Nobody
Summary: A collection of drabbles and one-shots about our favourite Musketeers. Pairings may vary. 6. D'Artagnan's nightmares are full of fire and smoke. d'Artagnan/Athos
1. The Scar He Created

Athos cannot help but wince when he sees the scar.

When d'Artagnan first arrived to Paris, he only had one scar. It was a thin line that ran from his knee down to just above his ankle. When queried about it, d'Artagnan had said it was from an accident when he was only a young child. He had been running too fast, not looking where he was going when he fell over a rock which caused the large gash. It was old and it held no haunting memories.

Since joining the Musketeers, d'Artagnan now had three. This in itself wasn't uncommon for in their line of duty it was rare if you were unmarked, however there was one scar that Athos couldn't stand the sight of, one that he flinched at the first time he saw. It was his scar. The one his hand created.

The white line ran along d'Artagnan's left hip and Athos saw it every time the boy raised an arm, every time he changed, every time the guilt of his actions threatened to consume him.

He wasn't supposed to have it. The bullet was merely meant to graze d'Artagnan; it was only to look like he had been hurt worse. Except Athos had been careless. He mistimed the shot and instead merely leaving a graze; the bullet punctured through the skin and left a deep slit in its wake. It was his fault that the blood that pooled around d'Artagnan was larger than it should have been. And it was his fault that Aramis had been forced to sneak in d'Artagnan's room to tend to him, compromising their plan. Initially they were to only pretend a physician had come to see him. Because of him they actually needed one.

D'Artagnan never blamed him though. When Athos apologised after the whole fiasco was over he had just shrugged and said it was part of the job. That he knew the risks and he was fine now, no harm done. He said it was pure misfortune it happened or maybe even his own fault for being in the wrong position. Athos had been quick to dismiss that notion. D'Artagnan was not at fault. He was.

Athos himself has many scars, but none had hurt worse than seeing the one he inflicted on d'Artagnan.


	2. Do you regret it?

Aramis had been quiet lately. Whilst he had not been actively avoidant, his smiles were fewer than normal and his eyes often gazed wistfully at nothing. It was almost reminiscent of how he had acted after he had killed Marsac but with less grief and more longing. Porthos had seen the way Aramis had held the child, Henry. How despite his best efforts he had become attached to the baby and to his mother. However, Porthos had a feeling it wasn't them in particular that Aramis had desired, it was merely the idea of having a wife and child of his own. Sometimes, Porthos wondered if Aramis regretted saying no to Agnes. Whether he regretted saying no to a life that would have mended his fragile heart and calmed his womanizing ways. It was a thought that hurt and one night when the wine was flowing freely the curiosity became too much to contain.

"Hey, Aramis?"

Aramis turned his attention to Porthos, setting down his cup on the table. They had a hard day of training and were rewarding themselves with the pleasure of drinking. It was how they rewarded themselves most nights, but it never became less enjoyable. Athos and d'Artagnan had headed home early and so it was just the two of them, perfect for the topic he was about to bring up.

"What is it, my friend?" Aramis asked, leaning casually against the table, a content and languid smile on his face.

"Do you ever wish you had taken Agnes up on her offer?"

Aramis' brow crinkled in confusion and the corners of his lips curved. "What offer? The one to join her and Henry?"

Porthos nodded. "Yeah, that one. I've noticed that you've been acting different since then. I was wondering if that had something to do with it."

Aramis pressed his lips together and released a long breath. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully before he spoke. "I don't regret saying no," he finally said. A clamp that Porthos had not known was around his heart eased at the words, but he saved his relief until Aramis finished what he was going to say. "But I do wonder. I was going to have a son you know."

Porthos had not known. Aramis never said much about the life before the Musketeers, and Porthos had never pried. It was an unspoken rule between the Musketeers that a man's reason for joining, different they were for everyone, were his own and his alone to share.

"What happened?" Even though the answer was fairly obvious, Porthos didn't want to assume, and he wanted to hear the explanation from Aramis himself.

"She lost the child, and her father sent her away. He wouldn't tell me where she went, and so I joined the Musketeers. At the time I felt it was as if God was telling me I was not meant to be a father and so I joined the profession where being a father and a husband was a disadvantage."

"But you still want to be them." Porthos said. It wasn't so much a question as a statement of understanding.

"I will admit the idea is nice," Aramis said with a small smile, "but at the same time I have found a calling in being a Musketeer. I have no doubt that if I had gone with Agnes, I would have stayed, but I would have missed the thrill of the fight, the adrenaline as we help King and country. Most of all I would have missed you, Athos and d'Artagnan. Regardless, as I said then, someone needs to patch up you lot when you get hurt. Without me you would all be dead within the week," he finished with a smirk as he drank the last of his wine.

Porthos laughed, and the last remaining bits of anxiety within him dissipated. Maybe one day Aramis would decide otherwise and finally choose to settle down with a nice woman and start a family, perhaps they all would, but for now he was staying and Porthos couldn't be happier.


	3. In My Dreams

He stares at himself in the mirror and he can hardly recognise himself. He is a far cry from the thin, unruly farm boy from Gascony he was when he arrived in Paris. Now he is well-fed, distinguished and a Musketeer. It was more than he could have dreamt of for himself, he should be happy. Except it seems his dreams have grown bigger since coming to Paris.

Instead of merely fighting alongside his friends, the Musketeers, for King and country he also pictures himself returning home to the smell of home-cooked food. He imagines a beaming Constance coming to greet him at the door, a baby girl in her arms and their son running behind to welcome him home. He dreams of picking up his son as he asks to hear about his latest adventure and as he recounts it to his son, making sure to dramatize them as much as possible, Constance laughs at his theatrics as she places their daughter down. They eat dinner together, and once the children are asleep for the night, he lies beside Constance who asks how the mission went truly. He tells her and she smiles as she listens, her breathing shallow and comforting as the fire slowly dies down. When he finishes, she tells him that she's proud of him and they kiss before huddling together under the blankets. It is the same every night, and every night he cannot think of anything more perfect.

He still dreams of it, even now, but that's all it will ever remain. A dream.


	4. I'll Watch Over You

He still doesn't know how Anne did it, but every day he can never express how thankful he is that she managed it. Thanks to her, he is Prince Louis XIV's personal guard. Thanks to her, he gets to watch his son grow. Thanks to her, his son knows he exists.

"Aramis, Aramis, did you see that?!"

Prince Louis is an adventurous child, only five years old and he wants to learn to fight 'just like Aramis does'. Currently, he is showing Aramis the move the Musketeer taught him only the other day and Aramis couldn't be more proud.

With a grin, Aramis kneels and says, "I did indeed. You've very much improved since yesterday."

His son beams at his father, not that he does, or will ever know that. Sometimes the pain is so much is takes all he has to summon the barest of smiles for his child. But he does, for if there is one thing he has to be, it is there for the child. He will be there when his mother cannot be, when the man he calls father is too busy. He would do anything for his child.

"I knew it! Can I come with you on one of your missions then?"

Aramis laughs at his son's question. The boy is determined to join Aramis on the tasks he is set aside from watching Louis. Porthos, when he had previously assisted Aramis on his watch, had told Louis of the adventures they had gone on in the past and since then the boy was adamant that he would join him. Aramis had told him to wait until he was skilled enough and so the boy had made it his own personal mission to have Aramis train him every day with his own little wooden sword. They now have a routine that every weekend when Louis is free from his lessons the two would spar. Anne had scolded him when she first found out, afraid that her child would be hurt, but she couldn't deny that it brought such a bright smile to his face. A smile Aramis was able to put there. She couldn't take that away.

The years go by and Aramis makes sure to always be there for his son. Any worries he has, they are brought to Aramis be they to do with lessons, politics or romance. He takes his duties as the boy's father very seriously, and the day that his son tells him that he was more like a father than his namesake, Aramis very nearly cries.

Before he knows it, his son is an adult and no longer needs the care and reassurance he required as a child. Aramis is still there though. There are some days he is tempted to reveal the secret to his son, but he never does. Were word to spread there would be a riot, and Aramis would never put his son in that sort of danger. Instead, he contents himself in watching Louis as he courts a lovely duchess using the words he taught him. He contents himself watching Louis protect his people using the moves Aramis had shown him when he was small. It may hurt, every time he hears his son call another father, but he has vowed to keep him safe no matter what.

It is this promise that runs through his head as he finally dies, saving his son's life from an assassination attempt. Even as the life drains out of him, and his son cries over his body, Aramis still doesn't tell his child, but he still watches over him. He always will.

* * *

_I don't know why I keep making these all angsty at the last second. It just sort of happens. _


	5. The Comte and the Thief

**The Comte and the Thief**

Everyone thinks that Porthos and Aramis met first. That wasn't to suggest that they thought Athos was not as close to them, it was just something people naturally assumed. They are always surprised to find out they're wrong.

Athos met Porthos while on a trip to Paris. He was still acting as the Comte de la Fère and he still had a loving wife waiting for him when he returned home. It wasn't his first trip to Paris and so Athos knew to be especially cautious when he rode. Whilst he did not flaunt his riches, his wealth was obvious from his well-tailored clothes and the impressiveness of his steed. He fully expected to be a target.

It was with this expectation that the second a hand closed around his pouch his sword was out and under the neck of the unsuspecting thief. Keeping his hand still and sword in place, Athos looked at the man who tried to rob him. He first noticed how large the man was, he looked like someone who could knock a person out with one punch, but Athos didn't fear him as he was prepared to use his sword should the thief make one wrong move.

"I would let go of that if I were you," Athos suggested calmly, inclining his head to the hand that still gripped his money.

Teeth ground together, the thief snatched his hand away and his lips curled down further when Athos carried on holding the sword to his throat.

"Do you not have anything to say? An apology perhaps?" It was something Athos said to every man who tried to steal from him. It probably wasn't wise, he had infuriated enough men to attack with them, but it was something he said nonetheless.

The thief barely contained a snarl. "Why should I apologise to a man who has a full stomach while there are hundreds out there who struggle to pay for one meal a day if they're lucky. There are children dying because they lack the money you have. Do you not care about them? I am only trying to provide them the meals you take for granted."

Athos raised an eyebrow and considered the thieves words. Slowly, he withdrew his sword. Never had he met a thief that was concerned with anyone other than himself, or at least spoke of them so passionately.

"If I were to care about every poor soul in Paris, I would be penniless and there would be more to replace them. It is how society works." It may be sad, but it was the truth. For all the idea of removing poverty was nice, it was impossible as humans were inherently selfish creatures. Athos tried to do his part, but as he said, he couldn't help everyone.

The thief didn't respond but he didn't look as angry as he had before. He still eyed Athos' sword with wariness as he gradually backed away. Before he could fully make an escape, Athos called him back.

"Wait!" The thief halted, and he gave Athos a curious expression which turned to surprise when Athos threw him something.

"Keep it, feed some children." Athos told the thief as the man eyed the money filled pouch with amazement. Athos may not be able to help everyone, but this thief had earned his respect and so he was going to give the money, on his terms.

He raised his head and offered Athos a small smile. "Thanks," he said, stuffing the pouch in one of his pockets.

"Don't mention it."

He did mention it; however that time was three years later when Athos requested to join the Musketeers. Porthos, as he had introduced himself, had been one of the first faces he saw when starting his training and the ex-thief had informed Athos that he was the reason he'd joined the Musketeers. Athos' generosity, something he had never seen before, had given him the realisation that not all rich men were arrogant, selfish bastards. It was this realisation that had stopped him from running the moment Treville came up to him to say he had potential and offered him a place with the Musketeers.

Treville, seeing that the two men already knew each other, suggested that Porthos be the one to guide Athos through his training, along with one of the other newer recruits Porthos already knew - Aramis. Porthos heartily agreed, as did Aramis when he met Athos, and it was then that the bond between the three inseparables was born.


	6. Nightmares Full of Fire

D'Artagnan's nightmares are full of fire and smoke. He's trapped by the flames as they surround him, licking at his body, burning his skin black…

It starts with him in his childhood home, basking in the meagre heat provided by the many lit candles they had in order to try and combat the brutal cold of the winter. Before he knows it, one of the candles has been knocked over and the flames are un-relentless as they spread to every available wooden surface they can. He can hear his mama screaming at them to leave; he can hear his father ordering him and his brother to climb out the window as the door is blocked. He can hear –

The memory changes. This time he is alone, watching as with every second that passes his life is cut shorter and shorter. He struggles against the bonds that tie him to the gun powder, all the while panicking that these will be his final moments. He will die surrounded by the fire and smoke that had threatened his life once before. The flame gets closer and still he is trapped. He is going to die, no one will know he was there, he will –

He is in Athos' mansion. The smoke clouds his vision, and the flames reach out to him as he continues through the rooms in search of his friend. Part of him wonders whether Athos is already dead, but he pushes that thought aside. He doesn't know what he'd do if he was. He finally finds Athos however just as he gets ready to get them out of there something breaks and his exit is blocked. They are trapped, trapped within the burning heat. D'Artagnan doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know how he can get them out alive. Once again, he his life is put in danger by the flames that endanger him once more and this time not only him, but the life of Athos as well…

The memories become interwoven until he is no longer sure where he is and what is happening. The only thing that remains constant is the fire, the fear and the panic. There seems to be no end, no rest from these dreams that torment him. He is trapped, stuck within the flames, imprisoned by the smoke forever-

Until he wakes. Coherency doesn't come quickly, and d'Artagnan does not take well to the body constricting him, the warmth it providing being anything but comforting. He struggles against the body, attempting to free himself from the heat he can still feel. Then he hears a voice.

"Calm down d'Artagnan, you are safe. There is nothing to fear. Listen to me. I will not let anything harm you."

He knows that voice. Almost instantly his muscles start to relax and he stares up at the face of Athos who is looking at him with concern. He begins to remember where he is. His breaths start to become slower, as does his heart rate. Athos' arms are still around him, but instead of feeling the need to escape like he had previously, he allows himself to rest in them.

"Nightmare?" Athos asks. His voice in tender and calms d'Artagnan further. The memories that haunted his dreams begin to fade but he still remembers the panic and fear he'd felt. Not trusting his voice quite yet, d'Artagnan just nods against Athos' chest.

"I heard you muttering about fire again. Do you wish to talk about it?" This isn't the first time d'Artagnan has had the dreams, nor is it the first time he has woken Athos with them. Then again, perhaps the other man was already awake from nightmares of his own. Either way, they are both awake and d'Artagnan is still trembling slightly from the remnants of the dream that stay in his mind. Each time before when Athos had asked whether he wished to discuss his dreams, he had shaken his head. Now, however, he feels the need to share them, to release them so that they may hopefully plague him no longer.

"I…when I was younger, my house burnt down. No one was hurt, but I was the last to be freed. I had helped my father get my brother out and before I could follow the fire spread over the window I was facing. It wasn't a problem as I got out of the one in my bedroom, but at the time I thought I was going to be burnt alive. I had managed to repress the memories until the mission with Vadim. I felt the same way when trying to escape. I didn't think I was going to get out. And then-"

He cuts himself off. He doesn't want to remind Athos of the time that his murderess wife nearly killed him, nor reveal to him that the incident had fuelled the nightmares.

"When you rescued me from the fire." Athos' finishes off for him and d'Artagnan grimaces. He hopes Athos doesn't blame himself, as he has a tendency to do, but instead of looking pained the other man only looks slightly resigned and still concerned.

"I don't know why I dream of them. I am fine, my family was fine and you are fine. It's foolish, I know-"

Athos stops him. "The mind is a strange thing d'Artagnan," he mutters as he rearranges them so that d'Artagnan's head rests more comfortably on his shoulder and his strong arms encase him. "You were afraid at those moments and that is alright. Anyone in your position would have been scared. I too was frightened that night when you rescued me and I dream about what-ifs all the time. It is something I can deal with however, when I wake with you beside me. The dreams will get better, mine already have."

It is the most d'Artagnan has heard Athos say in a while and he presses a small smile against Athos' bare skin. He feels safe, protected and most of all loved, not that he has yet expressed that sentiment to Athos yet. They don't say any more that night and just as Athos said, the dreams do begin to dwindle now that he has spoken about them. It isn't quick, but it's something. It helps that every time he wakes, Athos is there to sooth him and in return d'Artagnan does the same when Athos has his own nightmares. The fires that had once ravened through his mind soon dwindle into ashes and d'Artagnan gets the best night sleep he's had in years.


End file.
